“Continue.”
“I just monitored a report that says Professor Acton’s parents might have been abducted.”
“What?”
“A neighbor reported seeing two men forcing them into a vehicle less than an hour ago.”
“Jesus Christ! Wait right there!” He hit the Hold button then dialed another number.
“Dispatch.”
“Team Sierra-Foxtrot-Four-One, have them secure their targets, now!”
Leroux and White Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia
Chris Leroux collapsed on top of his girlfriend and best thing ever to happen to him, Sherrie White. It had been a marathon session of lovemaking, touching upon more surfaces of their small apartment than he could have previously imagined. He loved it when she came back from assignment, her job as a CIA agent taking her away too frequently. He hated that she’d have to leave, but the rewards when she returned were worth it.
He tried to catch his breath as her own lungs heaved under his weight. He moved to get off her when she reached behind her and grabbed his waist. “No, I want to feel you on top of me.”
He smiled, pressing his cheek against her back, closing his eyes. He loved the feel of her skin on his, their sweat dripping off their bodies, the mix of endorphins and pheromones exciting him in ways he had never known possible before he met the love of his life.
It had been a couple of years now since they met, she a CIA agent sent to test his loyalties with the ultimate temptation.
Her.
But she had failed, or he had succeeded. The perspective was a glass half-full or half-empty thing. She had developed feelings for him and requested reassignment, a request that had been denied, it too late to insert someone else to test him. She had been forced to go through with the deception, and he had resisted her. But the betrayal, once discovered, had cut deep and he had returned to his apartment, broken.
But his high school buddy and CIA Special Agent had forced the two of them back together, and they had never looked back, their relationship still strong, their sex lives even more incredible now that the security detail had been lifted, the Assembly no longer a threat.
It meant freedom to do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without worrying about some security detail seeing something, or worse, barging in.
“You were an animal.”
He smiled at Sherrie’s gasped words. “You bring out the animal in me?”
“Wasn’t that from a song?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. I’m not very original.”
She pushed herself up, and turned around, her bum on the back of the couch, wrapping her legs around his shoulders as she stared down at him. “A few of those moves were pretty original.”
He looked away, embarrassed. “Saw that last one in a movie.”
“Disney, I’m sure.”
He chuckled. “Oh, of course.”
She grinned. “Now I know what you do when I’m away on assignment.”
“Porn and video games. I am the modern male.”
“Well, you’re doing something right, baby.”
Somebody hammered at the door, startling Sherrie. She yelped, falling backward and landing on the floor, her arms slamming down in a martial arts move designed to take away some of the force.
But it was loud.
The door burst open and Leroux whipped around, Mr. Happy swinging in the breeze, still at half-mast as his former security detail rushed in, the team lead coming to a halt, raising his hand to block the sight.
“Are you two okay? We heard somebody yell.”
Sherrie stood up, not bothering to cover herself, any modesty hammered out of her as an agent. “That was me. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Out of us,” said Leroux, slapping his hands over his withering region. “Umm, what are you doing here?”
Sherrie tossed him a cushion and he let it drop to the floor in front of him, catching it meaning he’d have to expose himself again. And that assumed he actually caught it, his athletic skills never quite up to par.
Always last picked for the team.
Though not anymore.
He led a team of nine of the most talented analysts at the CIA, was respected by his supervisors and his staff, had an incredibly gorgeous girlfriend, and had been under fire without shitting his pants.
That was a life turnaround if there ever was one.
Sherrie slapped a pillow over his crotch.
“Director Morrison has ordered us to take you to a secure location.”
“Why?” asked Sherrie as she put on a robe, loosely tying it in front.
The agent frowned. “We believe the Assembly might be making their move.”
Kane Family Residence, Albany, New York
“And what do you think I found?”
Dylan Kane shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth while those gathered around the table shouted out guesses, all wrong. To his family he was Dylan Kane, Insurance Investigator for Shaw’s of London, his job one of jetting around the globe, busting insurance scams and fraud attempts.
Of course, it was all bullshit.
And he hated having to lie to them.
Especially his father, who had a serious hate on for the insurance industry.
“Horses?”
He looked at his Aunt Ida. “Umm, no. Cars. Every single car he had reported lost at sea.”
“How did he think he’d get away with it?” asked his mother. “I mean, didn’t he think someone would look in his own garage?”
Kane shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe the idiocy I come across. In this case, he was in some heavy debt to some loan sharks in Macao—gambling—so he decided to pretend to ship his cars to London, paid a ship captain to steer into a storm and have the cargo containers dumped overboard so he could claim the insurance. Then he’d sell the actual cars to settle the debt. Only problem was he didn’t know how to unload the cars, and his creditors would only take cash. I arrived before he had a chance to move them.”
“Fascinating,” said his mother, taking a sip of her orange juice. “It must feel so good to catch these people.”
“It does. Especially the bad ones. Sometimes they’re just desperate people, but I don’t deal with the little guys.” His watch sent an electrical pulse into this wrist, discretely signaling a message from his employer. He ignored it. “Those are quite often the hard luck cases. I usually deal with the multimillion dollar policies. These people sometimes are desperate, but they never face the gutter.” He wiped the corners of his mouth. “Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”
He stood up, dropping his napkin on his chair, then headed for the bathroom. Entering a coded sequence into his watch by pressing the edges in a certain order, a message scrolled.
He cursed.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to visit his folks, his real job having him gallivanting all over the world, though like his cover career, this one demanded he drop everything at a moment’s notice. He headed back to the table and sat down. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave soon. Emergency at work.”
His father grunted his displeasure. “Emergency? In the insurance business?”
Kane shrugged as he shoveled each delicious mouthful of his mother’s breakfast into his face, not sure when he’d get to enjoy it again. “Well, Dad, we don’t schedule natural disasters or criminal activity.”
“What is it this time, dear?” asked his mother as she leaned over and dropped another load of eggs and bacon on his plate. He grinned through filled cheeks.
“Oh, nothing serious.”
“Then it can wait.” His father’s voice was gruff as usual when it came to him running off. He wasn’t really mad, at least he hoped he wasn’t. Kane was sure the man was just disappointed his son had to run off, especially for a job he didn’t respect. “It’s not like you’re out there saving the world, you’re trying to save some multibillion dollar company from paying out
money on a policy some poor SOB paid into his entire life.”
Kane felt his chest tighten at the words, it truly hurtful that his father disrespected his line of work so much that he’d say things like that. It wasn’t the first time, though he had never been so blunt before. He just wished he could tell him the truth about what he did.
He’d be so proud.
His mother swatted his father, noticing the gloom clouding her son’s face. “Take it easy on him, dear, what he does is important. If everybody was allowed to cheat the insurance company, just imagine how high our premiums would be. Dylan does an important job. Not everybody can be James Bond, saving the world.”
Kane smiled.
If only you knew.
“Thanks, Mom.”
He cleared his plate then rose, giving his parents and aunt hugs.
“I’ll try to get back soon.”
“We know you will, dear.”
Kane left the home he had grown up in, his heart heavy as it always was. He missed his folks, especially knowing he might never see them again, his line of work not the safest in the career aptitude test.
He started the engine of his rental and pulled out of the driveway, waving to his folks who were standing on the porch, his father appearing particularly sad.
I knew he was just disappointed.
As he pulled out of sight, he hoped that someday he’d be able to reveal what he truly did for a living, and see the pride in his father’s eyes he so desperately craved.
He turned toward the airport, a plane already waiting for him.
Time to save the world.
He chuckled as he switched from Dylan Kane, Shaw’s of London Insurance Investigator, to Dylan Kane, CIA Special Agent.
I guess it was James Bond’s night off.
Ambasciatori Palace Hotel, Rome, Italy
“It’s all my fault.”
Acton sat on the couch in the living area of the two-bedroom suite, Laura perched behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders, trying to ease his tension.
It wasn’t working.
“It’s not your fault, dear, you know that.”
Acton patted his wife’s hand and leaned back into her, ending the massage and giving her hands a rest. “If I had left well enough alone and not put that damned phone in with the portrait, none of this would be happening.”
“And if criminals hadn’t murdered six people and stolen it, none of this would be happening either.” Reading placed his phone down on the table between them. “It’s not your fault, it’s theirs.” He pointed at the phone. “They traced the call.”
“Let me guess, the castle?”
Reading nodded. “They don’t seem to be concerned that we know where they are.”
“They don’t need to be. They have my parents.” Acton shook his head. “And it sounds like they intend to keep them.”
“How long?” asked Laura.
“I got the distinct impression he was talking weeks or months, maybe even longer. I think he intends to keep them to keep me silent.”
Laura laid her chin on his shoulder, squeezing him around the chest. “I’m so sorry.” She extricated herself, sitting beside him. “I think we need to involve the police, FBI, someone.”
Acton shook his head. “We can’t. We don’t know who we can trust, and if we tell the wrong person, and they find out, they could—” He stopped himself, not trusting the words to come out whole as he felt the overwhelming urge to cry. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head drooping low as he battled for control. “He said…he’d send them to me…one body…part…at a…time.”
The tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto the carpet, though he controlled the sobs, determined not to let these bastards get control of his emotions. He had to remain strong, clearheaded, if his parents had any chance. Laura held him tightly from the side, her hand gently stroking his back, as Reading said nothing, the man uncomfortable with displays of emotions.
Acton wiped his cheeks dry and sat up. “Sorry, I guess I needed that.”
“Never apologize for being human,” said Reading.
Guess he’s getting soft in his old age.
Laura turned to face him, bending her leg up under her on the couch. “So what are we going to do?”
Acton looked at her then Reading.
“We need outside help.”
Laura smiled slightly. “A little Kraft Dinner?”
He nodded.
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Leroux sat in a chair at the back of the Operations Center, his team working their magic as he orchestrated their moves. Police reports had confirmed that Professor James Acton’s parents were missing, there signs they had left the house abruptly, their television still on, an evening snack half eaten.
Not to mention the reports that a neighbor had seen them getting into a black SUV with two men they didn’t recognize, and apparently not dressed like they normally would to go out.
Apparently an overly observant neighbor.
He liked the anonymity of living in an apartment. He barely knew any of his neighbors beyond nodding to them or saying good morning or evening. Few even bothered with that, some turning the opposite direction, his security detail essentially creating a shield around him, both physical and social.
And he had no problem with that.
They liked Sherrie though, especially the guys. They never seemed to avoid her, and a few even expressed surprise when they’d be talking to her at the mailboxes and he’d arrive, she giving him a kiss.
At first he had felt jealousy at it, then pride.
Yeah, asshole, she’s mine. Suck it!
He was a loner, a chronic loner, with one real friend—Dylan Kane, a high school buddy he had helped tutor. Kane was the jock, cool, every girl wanted him, every guy wanted to be him. But rather than be an asshole like so many of the other jocks, Kane had been a true friend, sticking up for him over the short time they knew each other, and never ashamed to admit to that friendship. They had lost track of each other when Kane had left for college, but a chance encounter in the cafeteria at Langley had rekindled the friendship, Leroux shocked to learn Kane was an agent.
A secret he had kept to this day, it the secret Sherrie had been tasked to test him with.
His passing had meant his boss, Leif Morrison, had invited him into his inner circle of agents and analysts he trusted.
It was a small circle and the rewards were few beyond respect.
Which was really all he had ever wanted. He had received none in high school except from Kane, and his adult life, until he had met Sherrie, had been one of long hours hunched over a keyboard. Few dates, almost no second dates, no girlfriends to speak of, and no friends.
When the pizza guy is the highlight of your Friday night, you know you’ve got a problem.
But Sherrie had changed all that. Passing the test had meant he had been given more responsibility, the tougher assignments and eventually a team—something he had been horrified at when he was first informed. His painfully shy and awkward ways did not lend themselves to a leadership role, but with Sherrie’s help and Morrison’s confidence and encouragement, he had proven himself up to the task, even the analysts twice his age respecting him.
He actually felt pride in himself now, something he had never felt before.
I love my life.
And it could be a much shorter life if the Assembly had decided it was time to eliminate the thorns in their side.
A large array of flat screens that arced around the front of the room showed various traffic cameras along with private security cameras in the area of the abduction, license plate recognition software grabbing the plates and comparing them to the DMV registries for vehicle type, anything that matched the description of a dark colored SUV flagged for review by a human.
His team was good, his team was efficient. He had no doubt they’d narrow
down the thousands of vehicles to just a few, but eventually they’d need a more hands on approach.
A buzzer sounded and the door opened, National Clandestine Service Chief Leif Morrison entering. Leroux leapt to his feet. “Sir.”
Morrison waved him off. “Sit, Chris, it’s not the army.”
“Sorry, sir.” Leroux remained standing as Morrison came up beside him.
“Status?”
“We’re hitting every camera in the area, narrowing the list of possibles down, but we’re going to need some boots on the ground to run down leads.”
“The FBI is already taking over the case. If you find anything, send it their way, but we need to figure out if this has anything to do with the Assembly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The FBI has no idea who or what they are, and the détente we have with the Assembly means we need to keep it that way.”
“That limits the possibilities of whose boots are available.”
“It does.”
Leroux smiled. “Anyone in mind?”
Morrison nodded. “Oh, I’ve already got someone on the way.”
Acton Residence, Germantown, Maryland
CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane rolled up on the scene, half a dozen emergency vehicles peppering the street, it now a full-blown investigation. He climbed out and flashed his fake Homeland Security ID to one of the officers who led him to the Agent in Charge.
“Special Agent Kane, Homeland.”
The FBI agent in charge of the scene glanced at the badge. “McKinnon. What’s Homeland doing here?”
“Their son has a rather high security clearance so I was called in. You’ve still got the lead, I’m just here as a liaison.”
McKinnon grunted, apparently satisfied with the line of bullshit. He motioned toward the house. “Feel free to look around. We’re running down vehicles now through traffic cameras. We’ll find something.”
“Let’s hope so. Any signs of violence?”
McKinnon shook his head. “No. I’ve got a forensics team on its way, but nothing obvious. If we’re lucky we’ll get some prints off the door.”
Saint Peter's Soldiers (A James Acton Thriller, Book #14) Page 11